


A Chance Encounter

by 4TSloid



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Fight Sex, M/M, Rape Fantasy, Sexual Roleplay, Smut, VR Shenanigans, kev courtney and dok all have like one line each
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29038785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4TSloid/pseuds/4TSloid
Summary: Is this idiot really going to let him walk right up to him and snap his neck, as long as he’s given the impression that he’s about to receive the blowjob of a lifetime? Raiden’s already got a hand wrapped around his throat, just one wrong move and--A brief (almost) smut.
Relationships: Raiden/Samuel Rodrigues
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	A Chance Encounter

It’s raining sideways in Denver at midnight, but Raiden walks the streets anyways. His coat’s plastered to his metal body and his umbrella’s been blown out into a rain dish. In his other hand, he hopes a potential foe can’t make out the droplets clinging to the stealth-camoed case his sword rests in. But not even a galeforce wind could sway Raiden from his assured path towards the figure in white armour across the street, leaning against a lamp standard. As if he’d wanted Raiden to find him here, or he was expecting him. Raiden takes a deep breath, assumes his role, and tosses his busted umbrella to the wayside. The little noises the metal spokes make when they hit the wet ground gets his opponent’s attention. 

“Jetstream,” he snarls. Samuel smirks, snuffs a scoff through his nose. His distinctive ponytail is as similarly drenched as Raiden’s own hair; there’s no way to tell if Sam was out here waiting for minutes or hours.

“ _ Bonito _ ,” Sam greets. “Fancy meeting you here.” And if that asshole didn’t have the uncanny ability to instantaneously make Raiden want to smash his face in with a single quip of his eyebrow.

“I already regret not slicing you into seven hundred pieces when I had the chance.”

“Well, it sure would be a shame if the world lost me, no?”

In a single movement, Raiden produces his sword from its case. “Fuck you.” He flings himself at Sam without a moment’s hesitation.

“I wish.” Samuel unsheathes Murasama just in time to intercept the attack, and return a sharp kick aimed at Raiden’s ribs. He twists out of the way, and has just a split second to deliberate: make the next move, or let Sam come at him? Trying to break Sam’s stance was like trying to break down a cinder block wall with one’s forehead, but he also had black belts in more martial arts than he had fingers. And he was good at mind games, good at conditioning, manipulating Raiden into doing what he wanted him to do. All this while giving the impression that he only wanted to party all day and fuck pretty asses all night.

Well, Raiden speaks-- er, thinks from experience. He’s crossed blades with Sam a few times before, and read files on him that Maverick had provided. But alas, he’s taken too long to decide, because Sam’s coming up with his sword in such a way that his right wrist is open to attack-- like last time. Raiden takes the opportunity, parries, hits that wrist, and Murasama clatters to the wet asphalt. Sam smiles. His face is within punching range, and Raiden would love to just absolutely deck him. When he throws the fist, though, it’s too late. Raiden’s fallen right into his trap. Sam sidesteps the punch easily, sweeps Raiden off his feet, and before he’s hit the ground, wraps an arm around his waist. There’s a knee between Raiden’s legs and a crotch pressed against his ass. 

“What’s up with this wardrobe choice, Pretty Boy?” Sam asks. His slimy lips graze Raiden’s cheekbone. He squirms away. “Doesn’t flatter your figure at all. Maybe if you cinched the belt a little tighter, to create the illusion of a waistline.”

“Would you just shut up?” Raiden wriggles his sword in the direction of the inside of Sam’s thigh and gets a pained hiss. He’s released with enough time to get two or three steps away from Sam, to plot his next move. But when he turns back to face Sam, Raiden sees nothing but bad news. In front of Sam’s foot is his codpiece, in two pieces on the ground from Raiden’s attack. Which means his fully erect cock protrudes out from his exoskeletal suit, as if taunting Raiden. 

Sam staggers to his feet. “Like what you see?” 

Raiden’s opened up the mother of all cans of worms here. Of course he has a whole boner, that freak. He raises his HF sword. “I’ll fucking shank you.”

“You can’t take your eyes off it.” Raiden forces himself to meet Sam’s gaze, his mocking, expectant, lustful gaze. He doesn’t know what’s worse, staring at Sam’s cock, or staring at Sam while knowing he’d just been staring at his cock. Sam actually gives it a slow, proud jerk with his left hand. For now, there seems like no other better move than to try and uphold that promise Raiden just made to Sam, the one where he threatened to cut off his dick. Maybe he’ll have it taxidermied and display it on his mantle. Now, with or without the balls?

But now Sam and that cock of his is getting closer, and fast. He reaches down to pick up Murasama, and the two exchange slashes for a moment. Raiden can’t help but wonder whether Sam feels as overwhelmed by his thus-far impeccable defense as Raiden does about Sam’s overwhelming offense. Doesn’t it hurt when his dick’s flopping around in battle like that? Raiden really can’t afford to keep thinking about this kind of bullshit anymore, now that Sam’s foot has come down hard on his kneecap, sending him buckling to the floor. Of course just to get him at the perfect height for Sam to whap him in the face with his cock. Raiden bites a mouthful of air in its direction, and rolls backwards to get some distance between them. 

“Alright then,” Raiden stands, slowly and deliberately. He unbuckles the belt around his soaking wet coat and tosses it next to his busted umbrella. “You wanna play by those rules, huh.” He takes one step; lets his coat fall off around his shoulders and watches where Sam’s eyes land. His gaze only grows more lustful as Raiden shimmies his coat off and lets it fall in a pool on the asphalt like a silken slip. 

Sam’s lost for words. “P-Pretty Boy.” He strokes his chin, then his dick. “Very sexy, you.” Raiden smirks to himself as the moron stares at his waist, the curve of his codpiece, wanders down either of his legs and lingers at his heels. But he has to pretend to act flattered by this gross son of a bitch, so he flits his eyelashes a bit, swings his hips, forces himself to glance once again at Sam’s (still erect) dick, and takes another deliberate step. Is this idiot really going to let him walk right up to him and snap his neck, as long as he’s given the impression that he’s about to receive the blowjob of a lifetime? Raiden’s already got a hand wrapped around Sam’s throat, just one wrong move and--

A hand lands on Raiden’s cheek, and another on his ass, and Sam ushers him to the floor with an unceremonious crunch of pavement below. Raiden yelps as his arms are wrenched behind him and he’s pressed on the ground on his stomach. He can’t see much from here, but he tries to clamp his legs shut before Sam can get there. Too late, Sam’s already feeling for the plate over his pussy, which Raiden hopes he doesn’t notice is dripping and trembling at the promise of a good dicking down. Wait a minute. His dick must be freezing cold, with it being out in the rain and such. 

Wait a second. Raiden turns over his shoulder, breaking character, “Sam, hold up. There’s people watching us.”

Sam swings a hand out to the rest of the empty streets beyond them. “Nobody for miles,  _ bonito _ ,” he says. “Nobody to hear you scream. And if there are, somehow, I’d love to entertain them.” 

With one of Sam’s hands gone, Raiden has the space to give his shoulder, then his face, a solid kick. See how irresistibly handsome he is after that. “No, you asshole, the people from Maverick!” He stage whispers. “Courtney and Kev--”

There’s a  _ snap _ noise, everything goes white, and Kevin Washington’s voice cuts in. “Allllright!” He’s pretty close to shouting. He claps his hands once. “That’s about enough for today, you guys. That’s, that’s actually  _ way _ more than enough for today.” Courtney doesn’t contribute. She’s probably in shock. 

“Wait,” Sam says, from somewhere, “you weren’t all watching that, were you?”

“Uh?” Kevin asks back. “That’s? Kind of the point? Of collecting test data?”

“Well,” and Raiden can feel Sam’s face heat up in embarrassment. (Or that might be his own. Shit.) Sam clicks his tongue. “It was different at Desperado.”  


“We got, erm, sufficient test data,” Doktor says over the intercom, as the lab techs remove the VR sights from around Raiden’s, then Sam’s heads, returning them to reality. This is probably the first time Raiden's ever seen Sam ashamed. “And it seems all of us learned something new today. Like Mr. Rodrigues, who I hope will never do… that… again.”

“And like not to trust these two freaks with the VR combat sims,” Kevin continues. His eyes are the size of dinner plates. Raiden and Sam share a glance and a smile, the two of them still waiting to be unstrapped from the rigs. “How were we supposed to know they were going to use it as outlets for their roleplay fetish stuff? Raiden, man, you need to have a word with Sam. You’re the only one he listens to. Do it for Court’s sake. Because I have a feeling she’s going to be explaining all this to a therapist somewhere down the line.”

Raiden and Sam step out of the rigs and into each other’s arms. Over the commotion of Kevin having a mental breakdown and the techs putting away all the VR equipment, Raiden stands on tiptoe to whisper closer to Sam’s ear: “so you had private VR sims at Desperado or something?”

“Oh, very private.”

“Is it the kind of private I think you’re talking about?”

“Well, what kind of private  _ are  _ you talking about?”

“Having VR sex with me every night, huh,” Raiden says, like he’s so confident that’s the answer.

Sam smirks, and taps Raiden on the nose. “Of course. It’s all about you, you, you. Ice Princess doesn’t want me having VR sex with anyone else.”

“Well, did you?”

“What if I didn’t.”

“You did.” Raiden grabs a handful of Sam’s ponytail. 

“Having VR sex with Mistral was a popular choice back at Desperado,” Sam recalls. “Of course it was nothing compared to real sex with Mistral. They didn’t program you into the sex module till much later. And even then, it was in your old body. So I had to explain to the nerds there that I liked your new body, with the edgy spikes and the high heels and the cute eyepatch, and I had to beg them to put  _ that _ version of you in instead. But Sundowner liked your old body, and so we had--”

“Sundowner.” Raiden steps back. “ _ Sundowner _ was having VR sex with me. I thought you were kidding.” He puts the heels of his clawed hands in his eyes. “You talk too much. You keep telling me too much bullshit. I need a drink. I need a fucking drink. Come on. Let’s go home. I’m thinking you, me, and that nice bottle of bourbon after tonight.” Maybe they could do that thing where they tip each other’s drinks into each other’s mouths, like they do in rom-coms. Preferably naked.

Sam tries to rub out the crease between his eyebrows. “No kidding. Me too.” 


End file.
